


who made you king?

by adashofhope



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Enemies to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adashofhope/pseuds/adashofhope
Summary: the princess diaries 2: royal engagement au





	1. you're not so innocent.

**Author's Note:**

> i actually have this fic carefully planned out and didn't write it on a whim. go, me!

Michelle stares at the bowl of chocolate ice-cream that’s melting in front of her. The palace chef looks at her with a slightly terrified expression on his face and then back at the bowl of ice-cream in front of her. Her eyes widen and she takes a spoonful of the ice-cream and stuffs it into her mouth. 

 

God, it’s to  _ die  _ for.

 

When she’s wiped her mouth, she waves him off, “The ice-cream is great, probably the best ice-cream I’ve ever had. I’m just...not in the mood, but thank you, really.”

 

The cook continues slicing a carrot, “What’s wrong, Princess?”

 

“I just, I’ve been working so hard to become Queen and now someone else might actually steal my throne,” she sighs, playing with the spoon. “And of all the people in the world, it’s  _ him _ .”

 

“I’m confused,” the cook frowns. “Who is this...him?”

 

_ “May I have this dance?” _

 

_ Michelle stares at the man in front of her. He looks about her age, if not, a little younger. He’s handsome. She looks at the Duke from over his shoulder and thinks about the blisters on her feet. She’s not about to subject her poor feet to that kinda pain by dancing with him for the third time tonight.  _

 

_ “Dance? Absolutely,” she smiles, hurriedly taking his gloved hand and leading him to the middle of the dance floor. _

 

_ “You’re a good dancer,” she nods politely, trying to steer him away from the Duke as subtly as possible.  _

 

_ “Thank you,” he flashes her a grin and Michelle thinks if smiles could cure cancer, his would definitely be The Smile. He looks behind him at the Duke and nods at her in understanding. _

 

_ She widens her eyes, “It’s nothing personal, I swear. My feet just really hurt. Technically, you’re the one doing 90% of the dancing right now. I’m barely moving!” _

 

_ “Believe it or not, I’ve actually had the...pleasure of dancing with him,” he purses his lips and looks down at the floor.  _

 

_ Michelle winces, “Oh, your poor feet!” _

 

_ “I thought I would never walk again,” he sighs over-dramatically.  _

 

_ Michelle rolls her eyes playfully.  _

 

_ The Duke knocks into him from behind and forces him to invade her personal space. She doesn’t mind, though. Their noses are touching and Michelle tries to calm her nerves.  _

 

_ “I never got your name,” she practically breathes. She thinks he might feel her breath against his lips.  _

 

_ “Peter.” _

 

_ She’s about to go for the kill, lean in, when the music stops and everyone breaks apart, clapping. She forces herself to do the same and gives him a small smile, “I guess I’ll see you around.” _

 

_ He laughs, “I sure hope so, Your Highness.” _

 

“So,” the cook pauses, looking at her wistful expression. “What are you doing here? Go talk to him!”

 

“Keep up, Russell! He’s trying to steal my throne!”

 

“Of course, Your Highness,” the cook nods, placing the now diced carrots into a bowl. There’s silence for a while as she watches him prepare lunch, hoping to maybe pick up some cooking skills. 

 

She thinks about the events from a half hour ago and groans loudly, “I wish I’d handled it differently, though.”

 

Russell turns around to face her and tilts his head in confusion, “What did you do?”

 

_ Michelle stands next to her Grandmother with her fingers intertwined tightly in front of her. You know, just in case she accidentally decides to kick Lord Parker’s ass. She sees her Grandmother staring at her from the corner of her eye, “Look, MJ. I know it isn’t exactly the best situation to be in right now. Having people trying to steal your rightfully earned throne is never the best, believe me. You just have to keep your head held high and not let them get to you.” _

 

_ “I’d do a much better job of not letting them get to me if you didn’t invite them to live with us in the palace,” she retorts, fully aware of how much she resembles a five-year old right now. _

 

_ “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, my dear,” her Grandmother says in that refined, know-it-all, royal way that makes her want to scream and also has her in awe.  _

 

_ “They’re here! They’re here!” Betty, the royal head of event management and public relations, walks in holding her signature clipboard and making sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be.  _

 

_ Betty taps her on the shoulder and whispers, “Good luck, MJ.” _

 

_ “Thanks, Betty,” she tries to smile at Betty’s reassuring grin. _

 

_ Viscount Mabrey walks in first, smirks and all. She must not be very good at hiding her desire to wipe that smirk off his face because she feels her Grandmother gently place her hand on hers and give her a warning look.  _

 

_ She sighs, holds her head high and does her best to greet the Viscount without looking like she’s about to punch him. Next, comes someone called Lord Leeds. He looks slightly apologetic as he shakes their hands and introduces himself as Lord Parker’s half-brother.  _

 

_ And finally, the man himself.  _

 

_ When she finally looks at him, she has to do a double take because...it’s him. It’s Peter.  _

 

_ Holy fucking shit. _

 

_ “You?” she stares at him in absolute disbelief. _

 

_ “Pierre Parker,” he smiles, offering his hand for her to shake. She stares at his hand and then back at him as he winks at her, “But, you can call me Peter. Most people do, anyway.” _

 

_ “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” she mutters under her breath. “Stay the hell away from me, Pedro,” she says, stalking off to the kitchen.  _

 

_ Peter sighs, “You know it’s Peter!” _

 

_ She hears her Grandmother apologise profusely and Betty stepping in frantically before she disappears into the kitchen. _

 

“Oh, Princess,” Russell sighs, offering her a spoon of the chowder he’s cooking. 

 

She sticks the spoon into her mouth. 

 

“It’s great, Russell,” she frowns, thinking about how immaturely she handled the whole debacle. 

 

“There you are!”

 

“Betty?” she asks, confused as Russell gets back to making the chowder even better. 

 

“Come on,” Betty sighs, forcing her out of her chair and dragging her up the stairs, to her chambers. “The Queen requests your presence.”

 

She rolls her eyes, “I hate it when you’re fancy.”

 

“Fine,” Betty says, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Your Grandmother is about to whoop your ass.”

 

She huffs as she reaches her Grandmother’s chambers. Betty gives her a look that says ‘good luck’ and leaves to attend to the 500 other things she probably has to do. 

 

Michelle enters the room, closing the door behind her, “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

 

“Contrary to what Betty might’ve told you, I’m not angry. I mean, I was, but I thought about how this must feel for you. I’m sorry that you’re being forced to do this.”

 

“No, Grandma! Don’t apologise. I’m just sorry I didn’t handle it like an actual Queen would. I’m not letting them take my throne away. I promise to be more mature about it, from now on.”

 

“So, you’re fine? Arranged marriage and all…?”

 

“I mean,” Michelle shrugs. “You did it, and I’ll have to do it. For Genovia.”

 

Her Grandma smiles and opens her arms for a hug. Michelle smiles and obliges. She strokes her hair, “That’s my girl.”


	2. i don't understand why everybody thinks you're so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls imagine remy hii as harry

“So,” Michelle looks down at the popcorn she’s just been handed and looks around her. “All of you are going to just...help me pick my husband, like this is some weird royal Tinder?”

 

“Yes,” Betty nods, grabbing the remote to control the slideshow presentation she’d prepared in less than a day.

 

That woman was a frickin’ genius.

 

The slideshow begins and Michelle already wants to bang her head against the nearest wall, “Prince Harry? Really? He’s married!”

 

“I know,” Betty sighs, visibly swooning at the screen in front of her. “I just like looking at him.”

 

“Amen!”

 

“Thank you for contributing, Flash,” she nods, rolling her eyes. “Why are you even here?”

 

Flash looks at her like she’s the biggest idiot in the world, “I’m literally the Head of Security.”

 

“No one’s gonna attack me in here.”

 

“I know. I just wanted to see which poor man’s gonna get stuck with you for the rest of his life,” Flash laughs. 

 

“I swear to God, Flash-”

 

“Okay!” Betty interrupts, forcing her back in her seat and glaring at Flash. “You need to pick your husband by today or you can go ahead and say goodbye to your precious throne right now.”

 

Flash pretends to gag, “Please don’t do that, MJ. He’s the biggest dickwad ever.”

 

“You haven’t even talked to him, Flash,” Betty rolls her eyes, flipping through the slideshow.

 

“Well, I mean, if I had my way, Spider-Man would be our king. Can you imagine being Spider-Man’s royal bodyguard? That would be  _ badass _ .”

 

Michelle turns around in her seat to give Flash a deadpan look, “He’s a criminal.”

 

Flash holds up his index finger, “First of all, that’s debatable. Also, I know you don’t think he’s a criminal. You’re just saying that because he’s only a criminal according to Genovian Law.”

 

“What about him?” Betty asks, interrupting their bickering once again.

 

Michelle turns around to face the screen and reads the profile of the man in front of her. She shrugs, “He seems fine.”

 

“Fine? MJ, he’s Harry Osborn!”

 

She raises her eyebrows, “So?”

 

“Oh my God,” Flash places a hand on his forehead and another on Betty’s shoulder. “I think I might pass out if you let go of me, Betty.”

 

Betty rolls her eyes, “Look, you have Flash’s approval, and he has a clean record.”

 

Michelle stands up, wiping her hands, “Well, he’s definitely the best option out of everyone we’ve seen so far. Why not?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re marrying Harry Osborn,” Flash whispers, still in awe.

 

“I thought you wanted Spider-Man to be your king,” she smirks. 

 

“He’s no Spider-Man, but he’ll do. From what I know, he’s a good guy and I’ll be right here if he tries to hurt you or like, steal your throne too,” Flash nods, putting on his shades even though they’re deep inside the palace.

 

“Thank you, Eugene,” she smiles sweetly. 

 

“This is why I’m never nice to you!” Flash exclaims, stalking off in the other direction as she laughs at him.

 

\---

 

Harry, not the prince, but her...betrothed, arrives in Genovia after a few days. She has a very public first date with him on the beach, reporters and all. He’s nice. He’s read all the same books as her, likes most of the movies she’s into, and isn’t an asshole. He doesn’t seem that much interested in her throne and more like he’s marrying her to please his father but she doesn’t ask him about that. Well, not yet, anyway, she’d only just met him. 

 

She spends the next couple of days with Harry. She learns that he used to be a bit of a womaniser back in high school and he sincerely promises her that that chapter of his life is over. Everyone around her approves of him and she does too. She decides that he’s definitely not the worst she could’ve ended up with. In fact, she tells herself that she’s really lucky, and maybe she might actually fall in love with him.

 

“Michelle,” Harry says, one day as they’re in the royal garden. “I’ve got something to give you.”

 

Michelle glances at the paparazzi and reporters outside the palace gates, desperately trying to listen in on their conversation, “Do you, uh, want to go somewhere more private?”

 

“I like it here,” Harry shrugs and his perfectly styled hair bounces up and down. 

 

Would it be weird if she asked him about the products he uses for his perfect hair?

 

“Right,” Michelle nods, looking at the flowers next to her. “It’s just that they’re really good lip-readers.”

 

“I’ll try not to enunciate too much,” Harry nods fake-solemnly, and reaches into his suit pocket.

 

He pulls out a tiny box and she knows what it is without even having to give it a second glance. She thinks about her country, her people and the smug smile that’s always on Viscount Mabrey’s face whenever she runs into him. 

 

“I think we both deserve this part to be done right, at the very least,” Harry says, getting on one knee. 

 

“Princess Michelle Mary Jane Watson, will you marry me?”

 

She doesn’t think twice about it. She doesn’t have the time, nor the luxury to think twice about it. 

 

“Yes,” she smiles, a genuine one, because she’s glad she got lucky with him. He chuckles, and slides the diamond ring on her finger. It’s positively blinding. 

 

Behind her, she hears the reporters squealing and the sounds of a thousand cameras going off, all of them desperately trying to get the winning short. She hears the reporters rush through their sentences, each of them wanting to be the first people to cover her engagement. 

 

Her engagement. 

 

She’s engaged, to be married. 

 

Before she has the chance to overthink it, Harry takes her hand and leads her back into the palace. As soon as she steps inside, she’s engulfed in a hug by Betty and Harry’s being bombarded by a thousand questions from Flash. 

 

They make their royal announcement a few hours later, even though the whole country already knows about her engagement. She does nearly knock over a bunch of flowers and Harry awkwardly helps her cover it up in front of the press so she’s pretty sure they’ll make a great team. She tells him that later, once they’re back in the palace and he quotes her favourite book. She wonders why she hasn’t already fallen desperately in love with him.

 

—

 

Harry leaves after a couple of days because he’s got some business to attend to back home. One day, she finds herself on the steps of the staircase, admiring her ring. She  _ tries  _ to admire it, but her mind keeps drifting off to everything this ring on her finger symbolises. 

 

“Are you having second thoughts, Princess?”

 

She snaps her head up, and it’s none other than Lord Parker himself. He’s looking at her with a tiny smirk on his face and she almost wants to take her ring off and throw it right in his eye. 

 

“Not that it’s any of  _ your  _ business, but I was just admiring my ring. It’s beautiful.”

 

And she means it. 

 

It really is beautiful.

 

“Sure,” Lord Parker says, walking towards her in slow strides. “You just, don’t seem like the arranged marriage type.”

 

Be mature, MJ. She knows what he wants and she’s not going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

 

She stands up straight, “That’s what I thought too, but you know, Harry’s  _ great _ . I would marry him even if I didn’t have to.”

 

She catches him smile like he knows she’s lying through her teeth but she refuses to let her expression falter. 

 

“Well,” Peter nods. “I’m really happy for you.”

 

And she doesn’t know how he does it because it looks like he actually means it. Oh, he might have everyone in this damn palace fooled with his stupid, perfect smile but not her. Not. Her.

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

“I am! You could’ve ended up with a lot worse, you know. I’m glad you’re happy and you actually like who you’re ending up with,” he shrugs, following her up the staircase.

 

That comment seems to rile her up so much that she turns around and ends up mere centimetres away from him, “Alright, you can drop the act. I can see right through your bullshit.”

 

“If this is about what happened at the ball, I’m sorry.”

 

Michelle rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re sorry. Actually, it looks like you’re so sorry, you’ve decided to just steal my throne.”

 

Lord Parker takes a step closer to her, making her instinctively take a step back, “Hey, that throne is mine just as much as it is yours!”

 

She feels her back hit the wall but she doesn’t back down, “It’s  _ rightfully  _ mine.”

 

Peter scoffs, “Please. I’m the most suitable person to rule Genovia. Unlike you, I was born and raised here. I know what the people want and need, you don’t.”

 

“Princess, the- oh! Your highness, Lord Parker, I’m so sorry for interrupting,” one of the maids say as she hurriedly walks away from them. 

 

“No!” Michelle calls out after her, and it is then where she realises just how close she is to Lord Parker, and how wrong it looks. She pushes him away, “No! It’s not what it looks like!”

 

But the maid has already left the room and Michelle groans.

 

“It is always what it looks like, Princess,” he winks, before basically sashaying away. 

 

“I’m going to kill you, I swear-”

 

“So, my competition for the throne is also a murderer?” he fake-gasps.

 

She grabs the sweater that’s tied around her waist and throws it at him. To her despise, he ducks without even looking at her because of course he has good reflexes _.  _ Instead, he catches her sweater with one hand and flashes her the biggest grin, “I’m keeping this as a symbol of your undying love and admiration for me.”

 

She rolls her eyes as he giggles. Yes, this man  _ actually _ giggles. God, he frustrates her so much! She calls out after him, “I hate you!”

 

“Oh, Princess, you flatter me too much!”

 

Her Grandmother passes by him, on her way to Michelle and hears his sentence. She stares at Michelle disapprovingly and Michelle groans, following her like a child who’s about to get scolded by her mom. 

 

Damn it, Parker!

**Author's Note:**

> floofyparker on twitter 
> 
> softboyholland on tumblr


End file.
